


Little Patch of Heaven

by GopherGal



Category: Halloween Movies - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Western, Body Worship, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Smut, Western AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-27
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24944092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GopherGal/pseuds/GopherGal
Summary: The peace and quiet that came with living in your little farmhouse tucked away from town was worth the difficulties that came with it. Sometimes one of those difficulties was your stubborn lover refusing to take care of himself unless you dropped your other responsibilities.*****Literally just self indulgent fluff and smut in a western setting.
Relationships: Michael Myers/Reader
Comments: 2
Kudos: 84





	Little Patch of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> So, this is the first smut-fic I've ever written. I apologize for the quality. I'm also aware that Michael is really ooc, but it kinda makes sense with some headcanons I have with this AU. Enjoy, I guess!

Hot sunlight beat down on your skin as you hang freshly washed clothes on the line. The day is young and you can smell the soft scent of soap and crisp air on the breeze. The morning is still and quiet as you wait to see the determining factor of your day’s plans approach quickly on the horizon. It was Michael who’d left you the night before, kissing you hungrily as he fought back against the influence of the Shape. An unspoken promise that he’d return safely on his lips as he mounted Samhain, riding the black stallion into the night. 

Now you waited, knowing all too well of the possibility that you’d see the telltale white bandanna of the Shape growing large as it rode toward you. If that were to happen, you could kiss your plans of finishing the chores in a timely manner goodbye. The Shape would get what it wanted, rough hands roaming your body as the raw power engulfed you. Your body trembled at the thought, but whether it was in fear or deep desire, you could not tell. Your time with the Shape had made them indistinguishable from one another.

You busied yourself with the laundry once more, not wanting to entertain that idea for longer than need be. In time, you lost yourself to the repetitive movements of draping cloth on the line, at peace with the earth’s stillness. It wasn’t until you felt strong arms wrap around your shoulders that you realized you were no longer alone, the air you breathed filling with the sharp earthy, metallic scent of a successful night of hunting. 

Your stiff posture relaxed as a weight dropped onto your shoulder, warm puffs of breath caressing the exposed skin of your neck. Michael was home, the tenderness of the act confirming it for you. Though you didn’t truly hate the Shape and its raw desires, you much preferred the man behind you, clinging to you as a life line. When Michael came home, each and every touch was slow and very deliberate, his apology for the pain caused by his darker half as he kissed every bruise and blemish inflicted upon you.For now though, he was tired, leaning wearily against you as though you were the only stable thing in the world. You leaned back into his warmth, a smile growing bright on your face.

“Why, hello there, huckleberry,” you greeted, earning only a low hum in response. You led him inside wordlessly, depositing him at the dining table. He watched intently as you flitted around the room, sunlight catching in the hair framing your face. You came back to him with a warm, damp cloth and he allowed you to fuss over him, luxuriating in your gentle touches. It’d been a night like any other, rough enough to reward him with bruises, nicks, and an ache in his muscles. Nothing to worry much about.

Once you were satisfied, you left once again to go to the stove. It was a late breakfast for sure, but eggs and cured ham were a delight at any time of day. Coffee was like that too, but Michael took his with enough cream and sugar that it might as well be a dessert, so rich it made you gag. Despite this sweet tonic, he’d still managed to begin falling asleep into his plate. You’d counted three times before you made your decision to put the man to bed. You placed your hand over his own, squeezing gently to grab his attention.

“You should get some rest, Michael,” you said. He looked at you, frowning slightly.

“I’ll be there in a bit, I promise. I just have a few things to do outside before I can.” He shook his head, daring you to try and force him. With a sigh, you grip his arm in both of your hands. You tugged, increasing the force you applied until he pulled back. Your knees hit the wooden seat of the chair and you pitched forward, falling onto his firm chest. Without craning your head to look him in the eye, you already knew that he had that annoying smug grin of his plastered on his face. He wrapped his arms around you, manhandling you into a position he deemed comfortable on his lap, your skirt creeping up your legs slightly in the process. He held you there, as unresponsive as a brick wall as you protested weakly. 

You huffed, giving in as you felt his arms shift to your waist. Leaning back, you could hear the steady beat of his heart and feel his warmth. You began to melt into the position, happy to be pressed so close to the man you loved as you sat in his lap. The chair however, refused to comply with the happy moment, becoming more uncomfortable with each passing second.

“What if I joined you?” you asked Michael, reaching up to run your fingers through his dark curls, “Would you be able to rest then?” This time, you could see the devilish look in his eye as he hoisted you into his arms effortlessly. Involuntarily, you squeaked, your skirt shifting up further as he re-positioned his hand higher on your leg. He needed a firmer grip on you as he carried you to bed, after all. The man you loved was a gambler, and you had played right into his hand.

He lowered you onto the bed, the sturdy oak frame squeaking in defiance as it took your weight. He moved to join you, still wearing the outfit he’d gone out in, dark stains and all, so you put a hand up to remind him. You’d be damned if you were going to let him ruin more sheets with his nasty ways. Taking the initiative, you remove your work clothes, folding them away, before replacing them with a cotton nightgown. You turned back to see Michael splayed out on the bed in a biblical state of undress, his tan, scarred flesh waiting for you. Looking you up and down, he cocked a brow as if to say _“Really, you value modesty now?”_

“It’s hot enough as it is. I don’t think I could even sleep _next_ to you of all people right now,” even though it was the truth, his body did radiate the heat of a crackling fire, that look of his always made you feel like a foolish little girl. Hell, you probably were to him. He rolled his eyes at you slightly as you lay down next to him. You shifted and wiggled for a moment, trying to become comfortable, before he draped his heavy arm across your waist, stopping your incessant squirming. Even with the loose and delicate hold he had on you, Michael exuded an air of raw dominance. That paired with the noticeable heat he gave off made you incredibly drowsy and soon you succumbed to the sensation of safety and warmth within minutes. 

Not long into your nap, you became aware of the pressure and warmth of Michael’s rough hands as they danced feather-soft across your skin. At first, they roamed the exposed skin of your arms, then began to move upwards. His strong fingers rested lazily against your throat as he felt you pulse. You willed it not to quicken, fully enjoying Michael’s free exploration of your body as he did only when he felt safe and comfortable. 

His breath hitched as he moved downward, long fingers ghosting over the curve of your hip where they lingered momentarily. The hem of your gown slowly rose up as Michael ran his deliciously warm hand up your leg. When he reached your hip once again, he was gently, aware of the still healing bruises the Shape had left you with days before. Excitement bubbled within you as Michael leaned into you, his chest now flush with your back. The combined feeling of your sore bruises being massaged and his curly locks tickling the nape of your neck was intoxicating, and you couldn’t suppress the rising shudder that wracked your body.

Michael stopped abruptly, statue still for a moment before he retreated. You rolled over to look at him, disappointment changing into surprise. Oh my god, was he blushing? Times like these were rare and strange. Inside this mad was a ravenous beast, ready and fully desiring to devour you whole at any moment, yet here was a man vulnerable as any other. The blood that rushed to his face proved it, betraying the blank stare he wore. You propped yourself up on an arm to look at him.

“Michael,” you coax, voice silky and soft, “look at me.” He did, fiery intensity present even in the milky white of his left eye. “I like when you do that. It makes me feel good,” you say sheepishly. He cocked his head to the side, questioning your simple statement. You roll your eyes, exasperated.

“Honey, we’re basically married. Even without a preacher to tell us so. I’ve given you my body, so you can do anything you want.” You punctuate your statement by removing the thin veil of fabric hiding your body from view. Your skin is flawed, peppered with blemishes old and new, some from before you even met Michael, but he doesn’t care. He never has.

He reclines on the bed, pulling you to kneel, straddling him. His tenderness begins with your face, cupping your cheek in his rough, flat palm. It dragged down your neck once again, passing over it in favor of roaming through the canyon of your breasts. The feeling of it left your skin alight in its wake, blazing more intensely with every painfully slow move he made. You whimpered as he teased your erect nipples, squeezing them and rolling them between his fingers. Traveling further, he changed his focus to the marks the Shape had left littering your thighs, tracing his thumbs over the tender, discolored splotches.

You hummed in contentment, trying your best to contain the excitement that threatened to bubble over, lest you become restless. That was until he moved to cup your ass. Much to his pleasure, you gasped at the feeling of your bare flesh being kneaded by his careful hands. His already dark eye had become a bottomless pool of desire, inviting you to swim in the blackness with him. When he released you, your weak knees could not support you, letting you fall backward onto his lap, feeling that he was half hard against the curve of your ass.

You grin at the thought of teasing him, but he has planned further ahead of you than you can imagine. Before you can rub against him, he rolls, swiftly reversing your positions. His chapped lips leave your brain foggy until they leave yours in favor of wildly licking and suckling your breast. Heat drips into your core and your impatience grows. Soon, Michael is pleased with the reactions drawn from your breast and switches to the other, giving it equal attention. His hand comes to rest on your hip, a reminder to stop the involuntary rolling of your hips as you arched. Another kiss was placed on your parted lips, stealing your breath before he moved further down.

His hot breath drove you wild with desire as his mouth trailed down your body, neglecting the place that so wantonly needed his attention. The scars and bruises on your hot flesh were soothed by his tongue and lips as he kissed them. A needy whine escaped your lips, brought about by his tender ministrations as you shifted your hips. Subconsciously trying to draw his attention to your aching desire. In an act of mercy, his broad hand came upon your mound, spreading your juices around the engorged folds.

Girthy fingers slip into you with practiced ease, searching for your pleasure as he brushes you swollen clit with his thumb, tearing a sigh from you. Your head is thrown back in a moan and you arch into his touch when he licks a teasing stripe up your slit. He flicks the sensitive nub of your clit and latches onto it, groaning as you tangle your fingers into his hair. The way he lapped at your dripping wetness and the puffs of breath against your core were quickly becoming too much for your overwhelming want.

“Please, Michael,” you moaned, “I need you.” He stopped, allowing you a moment to breath. Cheekily, he gave you one last broad lick, savoring the sharp, surprised cry it drew from deep within you. Now, he loomed above you, supporting his weight with one arm as he lined himself up with your dripping sex. His cock parted your velvety lips, painfully slow as it filled you. You writhed against him, desperate for the friction he would provide your aching walls. Noticing this, he took control, easily throwing your leg over his shoulder. He drew his hips back at a languid pace, the surged forward, the lewd lap of skin-on-skin reverberating throughout the room. This lazy pace continued as he delighted in the desperate mewls he pulled from you. You cried out his name in immense pleasure as hit a new angle, arousal winding tighter with each thrust. He abused that spot, that snap of his hips becoming quicker with each high pitched moan that escaped your pink lips.

You can undone with a shriek, clamping down onto his cock as your fingers wound into the sheets beneath you. You were left empty as Michael, still erect, slipped out of you. Your moment to bask in the afterglow was cut short as you were flipped like a hotcake, your ass now pointed to the sky. He gripped your waist firmly now, plunging back into your wet cunt to use you. You had told him to do what he wanted, after all. Your conscious thoughts began to fade in the sensations as he thrust into your quivering heat, still overly sensitive from your orgasm. The new pace he set was animalistic, and far more akin to the Shape’s when it took you.

The feral need of it left you gasping for breath as he chased his high. No longer exercising the impressive self control he had before, he neared his end, thrusts becoming erratic and shallow. What had previously been low grunts and breathing had now faded into heavy panting and the lust fueled moans that filled your ears alongside the symphony of slapping skin. Without warning, he withdrew, sucking in a breath as he released rope after rope of his warm seed onto the small of your back.

He finally collapsed next to you, muscles quivering as he came down. No longer caring about the sticky heat, you relented as he pulled you to his side like his own person-sized teddy bear. You snuggled into him with a satisfied grin, having, in a roundabout way, achieved your goal of getting him to rest. You could always finish those dreaded chores later, for now, caring for the man you loved so dearly came first.


End file.
